"Poor creature!" ejaculated Wood. I’ll be waiting for you outside. Unless he can arise from the bottom of the Thames, where he and his abhorred father lie buried, you will never behold him again in this world. You've caught the colour and the life. I have never loved you. You know—I worship you. ’ Chapter Nine As she devoured the simple meal of bread and cheese, and several slices of cold roast beef, the whole washed down with a poor sort of coffee, Melusine listened with avid interest to the details of her mother’s life as revealed by the exclamatory conversation of Joan Ibstock.
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